


Art and Lessons

by StoriBambino



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spiderman Homecoming
Genre: Colorism, Education, F/F, Fluff, Harlem, New Friends, StoriesbyStori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriBambino/pseuds/StoriBambino
Summary: Shuri goes to Harlem to scout new locations for an institute. Her tour at the Schomburg Center for Research is extremely educational and a little heartbreaking





	Art and Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Per usual I have no beta so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> My works center POC specifically black people if that's not your thing move along. There's nothing for you here.

“Are we there yet?” Shuri was growing impatient. 

“Princess, we’ve only been in New York for three hours. There will be plenty of time to see everything.” There was a warning in Ayo’s tone but her eyes were soft.

“I am just ready to be out of this vehicle. It’s quite uncomfortable.” Ayo gave a small smile but didn’t respond to the whining princess. Shuri had good reason to be excited. She was finally able to go out in America without the supervisor of her brother or cousin. Things have been going so well at the institute in Oakland that she was in New York City to scout a new location for expansion. Erik immediately suggested Harlem, citing it was the birthplace of black culture in the city. Shuri had taken to researching the neighborhood and history with such vigor that T’Challa allowed her to go explore without him. It was her first taste of real responsibility in the two years since Erik’s invasion and the battle.   
Now she could barely contain herself as the motorcade rode down Malcolm X approaching 135th and she made a point to let the driver know, to the dismay of her Dora Milaje guard. 

She had reached out to Sam to get an itinerary together. He truly was a bird brain but gave her a list of must-see spots for art, food, and music. The first stop was The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. The car came to a stop and Shuri quickly hopped out to get a look at her surroundings. The city was not so different from her home, albeit a lot greyer. There were a lot more people that looked like her in the area opposed to the Manhattan hotel they would be staying in. Across the street, a statue caught her eye. It was a bronze sculpture of a black family above a burgundy canopy. The mother and father standing proudly with their children in two large hands. It was like they were being presented as a gift by some body-less god. The building itself wasn’t all that grand but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the statue. 

“That’s the Harlem Hospital Center.” The guide’s words startled Shuri.

“Why does it have that sculpture on the front?”

“To remind us that this was all we had at one point. There was a time that black families could only get medical assistance here in Harlem,” The guide cast a far-away look on the building then a bright smile to the princess “My name Is Vardia, I’ll be showing you around today your highness”

“Ah! No need for all that. Today I’m just a teenager on a tour.” Shuri chuckled. 

“Fine by me! Will your, um entourage be joining us?” 

Shuri glanced over to Ayo and the other personnel charged with keeping her safe. “Give me one moment and we can go in.” She jogged over to Ayo, waiting by the car. “Do you think I could do the tour alone? The place isn’t too big and it’s just art and stuff, no real danger.” 

“I have to advise against that,” Ayo said, throwing a curious eyebrow in her direction.

“I promise I will keep my kimoyo beads on and if anything happens I have my tech with me,” She bats her eyelashes and gives her most innocent smile. “This would be a nice opportunity to see the sights and enjoy yourself, you really do work too hard.” Flattery never worked on the Dora but it didn’t stop her from trying. She technically wasn’t lying either, Ayo worked so hard and this was supposed to be as much a vacation for them as a mission.

“Fine. I will see the sights as you suggested but I will not be far.” With that, she gave a salute and got back into the car. 

After a celebratory fist pump, Shuri returned to her guide to begin the tour. They entered the building, walking by the security desk and into a lobby with an intricate painting on the floor. There was a sign on the far wall explaining that the mural was supposed to represent different rivers. Five blue streams ran from different corners of the room to the center where a large blue circle outlined a reddish brown center covered in golden arrows and mathematical symbols. Around the center were the names of the rivers depicted. Shuri was able to make out Congo, Mississippi, and Euphrates before the guide motioned for them to move onto the first gallery. They went downstairs and came to another mural on the wall that read The American Negro Theater. Further down the hall, they came to a room with art on every wall. 

“These are works of the students we have here at the research center. The assignment was identity. Feel free to look around at the pieces and listen to the videos the students made to describe their works.” The collection was as beautiful as it was varied. There were paintings, charcoal drawings, sculptures and a picture that was made up of quotes from an original poem. Shuri spent at least five minutes in front of each one, taking it in and trying to get into the headspace of the artist. She never considered herself an artist although she constantly marveled at the beauty of her technology and machines. There was a slight pang of jealousy at those that could get pick up a pencil or paint brush and put their story and emotions onto a canvas. 

Vardia allowed her to take her time with the pieces, periodically checking her email on her phone. Shuri was wearing the provided headphones for a video presentation when she tapped her on the shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry about this Shuri but I have to go to an emergency meeting. Feel free to stay down here as long as you like then we can meet in the Black Power exhibit upstairs.” She said apologetically.

“No worries. Go and handle your business and I will be up there.” Shuri smiled and went back to her video. She spent a little more time revisiting her favorite pieces and headed upstairs to the second floor. A security guard greeted her at the entrance of the gallery. He was an older gentleman with soft eyes and a cheery demeanor. He gave a playful warning about not bringing food into the gallery or he would chase her down. However, he didn’t bother getting up from his seat so she laughed it off and walked in. Passing the theatre playing something called ‘Blaxploitation’ movies, she put a mental pin in that to come back to later. 

Upon entering the open gallery she was greeted by a large mural, purple background with a solid black fist and the words ‘Black Power!’ written in white. It was breathtaking, only two words but it was like they carried a weight with them. The gallery itself was filled with posters, excerpts from books and speeches, art, and pictures. She didn’t notice the group of other teenage girls eyeing her while she picked up headphones to listen to s documentary on Angela Davis and the Black Panther party. That was until one of them tapped her on her shoulder. “Hi. It’s almost finished I think then you can have a turn.” Shuri said with a smile.

“I’m not waiting for a turn. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck you’re doing here.” She spat. The girl and her friends couldn’t have been more than seventeen. They were all well dressed and their hair was laid nice in neat puffs, braids, and a twist out. If it wasn’t for her accusing tone Shuri might have thought of them as new friends.

“I’m sorry but what are you talking about?”

“Come on Liz, let’s just leave it.” The girl with the puffs said.

“No, I wanna know what the uppity princess is doing here in little ole Harlem with us regular blacks.” Liz quipped back.

“I am not uppity. I’m Shuri you don’t have to call me princess.” Shuri said in a light-hearted tone and extended her hand. The leader, Liz, just stared at it like she was offered a dead cat. “I’m being polite.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Polite would have been never stepping foot in Harlem. Yo Wakandan ass could’ve stayed overseas, we good over here. Your family sat by while we dealt with shit schools, poverty, violence, not to mention the police and our own government trying to kill us.” She gestured to the exhibit. “This is a testament to US. Everything we did we lost without you or your precious Wakanda”

Shuri just stood there. She didn’t know what to say. This was the first time she’d ever been put in this kind of situation and her entire world was off kilter. 

“What’s wrong princess not used to people being honest with you,” Liz said with a smirk. “Or are you not used to people not liking you.”

“I-I was just trying to be friendly.” She said in a small voice.

“Friends?” The girls let out a cackle “I bet you pay for your friends. Yeah, got a royal court of bitches that just laugh at all your jokes and give you compliments.” They laughed again. Heat began to rise in Shuri’s cheeks and tears prickled the back of her eyes. 

“Hey! Leave her alone you loser assholes.” The words came from a new girl in the gallery. She was glaring at the group of girls harassing Shuri. “You don’t have anything better to do than bother literal royalty.”

“Stay out of this light bright”

“Ah, of course, we go straight from gatekeeping to colorism. Why don’t you just stop the performative activism and let people enjoy the information here.” Her eyes were intense as she spoke but she lazily tossed her long curls over her shoulder when she was finished speaking.

The girls looked between Shuri and the new girl that saved her. The new girl stood straight as they sized her up. Deciding against continuing their assault they turned to leave, Liz being sure to throw an especially dirty look at Shuri on their way out. Shuri was still looking at the door when the girl approached. “Don’t worry about them. They just have a lot of misplaced frustration and you were an easy target. I’m Michelle.” 

“Shuri.”

“Now that’s over would you like a real tour of the exhibit?” Michelle had a bright smile.

“I would like that very much, Michelle.” Shuri returned the smile.

“Actually, you can call me MJ.” 

“Thank you again. I’m usually much better in times of conflict.” Shuri said while looking at a news clipping in one of the displays.

“Don’t worry about it,” Michelle responded while watching Shuri examine the exhibit. “You don’t deal with a lot of politics do you?”

“I do not. How could you tell?”

“It’s the way you look at this stuff,” She gestured around the gallery “Like a kid seeing the circus for the first time. Full of wonder not yet considering that the animals are actually in slavery.” Shuri straightened and turned to look at Michelle. Her face wasn’t accusatory, just thoughtful. The corners of her mouth were turned down but her eyes were still bright. She didn’t know what to say so she just shrugged at the impromptu guide.“Not to mention how you locked up when those girls confronted you.” Michelle said with a sly smile. “Don’t worry your highness I’m going to give you a crash course in black.” This earned a small chuckle from Shuri and they began to move through the exhibits. 

“No, I don’t deal with politics that’s left to my brother and mother. You’re so young. Why do you have such knowledge of politics?”

“It’s a symptom of being black in America. Politics have a direct effect on my everyday life. There are politics behind every interaction I have no matter who it’s with.” She answered flatly.

Shuri grew quiet. Her mind drifted back to the confrontation with Liz and the other girls. “Can I ask you something?”  
“I’m sure you just did.”

“Eh you’re not funny,” Shuri says with an eye roll. “But seriously. What is colorism? You said that girl jumped to colorism, I just don’t understand what that means.” 

Michelle stopped walking to turn and face Shuri completely. She studies her for a moment, taking in all of her features. Bright eyes that almost disappear when she smiles too big. Full lips dripping sarcasm and intelligence. Melaninated skin, deep brown but somehow still glowing. “You’re beautiful.” The words just kind of come out.  
Shuri ducks her head and smiles. That smile that’s as big as it can get without showing any teeth.“It’s true,” Michelle continues. “But historically girls like you have been consistently told the opposite. Colorism in a word is hatred, internal and external hatred. Around here lighter skin is equated to more desirable.” 

At the statement, Shuri pulled her brows together. The girl that stood before her was indeed gorgeous. She was fierce yet kind. Intelligent but not condescending. Her caramel colored skin was soft and enticing. She let her eyes fall to her own hands. The ones she loves, dark and capable. Michelle eyes her examining her and takes her hand holding it between both of hers.

“Wakanda didn’t go through chattel slavery so the beauty standards there come only from yourselves. However, since the colonizers couldn’t accept the inherent beauty of my ancestors they told them their skin was ugly. Add hundreds of years of physical and psychological abuse and you get a group of people that hate their own skin.” She interlaces their fingers as she talks. “The discourse never stopped. White supremacy rules America meaning black skin is criminal. The lighter you are the closer to freedom, the closer you are to freedom.” Letting out a bitter laugh she goes on, “It’s fucked cause to them we’re all just black. That doesn’t stop black parents from telling their kids not to stay in the sun too long or they’ll get dark. It doesn’t stop people thinking they’re dating up by having a light or white partner. It doesn’t stop the ‘are you black enough’ questions.” She pulls Shuri with her to sit on a nearby bench. “It’s like I’ve lost all hope of a happy ending that includes us all unified.” Michelle finally finishes with a sigh. 

Shuri gives her a moment trying to digest the words. “I still don’t quite understand but I know one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“My skin is perfect and yours is gorgeous. All shades of skin between us are beautiful. All types of black are divine.” She smiles at their intertwined fingers. “You make your own happy endings. I always say things can always be improved. With every innovation, there’s another small happy ending.”

“Heard princess, heard.” 

They finish the exhibits and catch a few clips of the films in the gallery before heading back outside to meet up with Shuri’s guard. They spot Ayo talking closely with a short woman with long locs to her waist. Her hand is resting on Ayo’s forearm and they both are sporting wide smiles. When she notices Shuri watching she raises an eyebrow. Only then does the teen realize she’s still holding hands with her new friend. Her ears burn a little and she clears her throat.

“This is Michelle, MJ, she’s been my guide.” She says. Nodding at the woman with Ayo she asks, “Who is this?” 

“This is Kemba. She’s a…what did you call it?”

“A barber.” The woman gives Ayo a wink. “I saw this baddie walk by my shop and I had to ask if I could line her up one of these days.” 

“I agreed,” Ayo answered with a curt nod.

“Sounds like we will be spending more time in New York then. I think I like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make my smile real big 
> 
> [come find me on the tumblr](https://storibambino.tumblr.com/)


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